


Tragedy

by ohtheway



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Adultery, Cheating, Drabble, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohtheway/pseuds/ohtheway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen laments on his affair with a co-worker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tragedy

**Author's Note:**

> **The identity of the man that Jensen is involved with is left ambiguous, so that you can picture whoever you'd like.**

No one knew the meaning of tragedy like Jensen knew the meaning of tragedy.  
  
Tragedy was his lover leaving the bed well before sunrise, well before anyone else awakened. Tragedy was the lack of warm arms embracing him, the missing heat between his thighs where the other man's thigh had been cradled. Tragedy was having to wash away the deep, musky scent that was uniquely his partner's. Tragedy was continuing to live a charade of a marriage that couldn't truly make him happy.  
  
Real tragedy was having to watch his lover do the same.  
  
Before they'd met, Jensen had been sure of his place in the world. Traditional marriage ideas were hammered into him, along with Southern values. Abandoning those were hard. He'd been raised to believe adultery was one of the worst sins.  
  
He still believed it. Even as he traced his fingers over the angular hip that earlier had pressed into him, even as he nosed into sweet smelling skin at the crook of his lover's neck, even as their quiet groans of ecstasy eclipsed them both, he believed.  
  
Tragedy was believing that every second of loving someone pushed you closer to Hell's embrace.  
  
And still, every night they met in secrecy, every moment they could steal, he pushed his hands underneath the fabric of those jeans. He stroked and kissed and grinded until his body ached as much as his soul.  
  
His fingers turned into claws that anchored the other body into his own, refusing to release until there was risk of getting caught, forever desperate for someone to catch them and end the lies.  
  
Hungry green eyes continued to cling, dragging over inch after inch of his leaving lover. Clothes were slipped into place, obscuring the marks that weren't there, that he wasn't allowed to make, but that he made every night in his mind, hoping beyond hope that the day would come where they wouldn't do this dance anymore, not like this.  
  
He licked his lower lip, thinking of the temptation that had gotten him here, thinking of the day when people would know how messed up they'd both become. Of the day they'd lose their jobs and their wives, of the day their families would go to Hell. Of the day everyone else would know they were going to Hell, just like they knew.  
  
Tragedy was never telling a single soul.


End file.
